Assorted Drabbles
by Avon
Summary: A collection of my drabbles (100 word fics) based on LOTR. Characters include Legolas, Frodo, Glorfindel, Aragorn, Gil-galad, Pippin, Faramir, Denethor, Elrohir, Elladan, Gimli, Gilraen and Boromir
1. I Will Take the Ring

I used to think that Elves knew everything, Men could do anything, Bilbo would always take care of me. I thought my life in the Shire would go on forever - days of sunshine to wander the land I loved, cold, dark nights gathered around the fireside drinking beer, roasting apples and sharing stories, and a world so safe and secure nothing could upset it. Even when Gandalf explained the golden snare I held, and the shadowed fate of Middle-Earth suddenly came, dark and real, into my cosy Hobbit-hole I still thought another would take the burden. 

Now I've grown up.  



	2. The Mines of Moria

As we climb the stairs of Moria, I swallow dust and grope for the step in front of me. In the darkest of nights I gaily dance through the uneven paths of Mirkwood but here I am bereft of vision, hearing - even touch dulls and fades. For the first time I know what it is to be truly alone. Do mortals live always in this silence? I shiver and wonder no longer at the dark grimness of our Men. 

"Do not be afraid," whispers Aragorn - and I feel something on the edge of my utter aloneness and I am comforted.  



	3. Smeagol has escaped

There is no darkness here; I feel it in the sun-warmed air and hear it from these fair, green trees. No Shadow overwhelms this land, no close menace binds these Elves. Yet still a chill prickles over me and I draw my cloak closer as I watch the Bruinen flow, clear and laughing. I carry the darkness within me, a shadow of guilt and shame. Aragorn's reproaches burned no more than my own - and no excuse, no justification can quench these. We have indeed failed - and now, in this council on the edge of the world, I have darkened hope. 


	4. Fire and Ice

How can I be cold when a fire burns within me? How can I hold my hands to the fire in front of me and feel no warmth? A bitter, creeping chill holds me tight and freezes my heart until breath seems to fail me. Pippin presses against my side seeming to find warmth in me, though. I wrap my cloak around him, glad to share something I can not feel. Across the circle the Ringbearer huddles against Aragorn and through the heat-waved air I watch the chain that bears his burden and shiver as ice-cold fire burns my soul. 


	5. Stars for Elendil

  
They say we must choose when our father leave, choose to stay and die a mortal death or sail to those who love us and who wait choose to be mortal or Elf, we who have never been either. 

Father does not ask, but he knows – and knows our choice will tear him in half again - and we do not tell. 

We made our choice when we rode into battle on the Pelennor - rode with a star for Elendil bound to our brows, rode to save the world of Men, rode with our brother, Estel hope of mortals.   
  



	6. The Joining

  
AN: I wrote this for Elena Tiriel who asked, over at HASA, for a birthday drabble concerning the Oath of Eorl on the Hill of Awe. I wrote it from the perspective of Eorl's esquire. The scene can be found in 'Unfinished Tales'. 

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I gave the spear to my lord and watched him plant it in this silent hallow; watched too as he offered his sword to the gods before paying an obsequy to the ancient grave. I listened little to his words though as he swore fealty and friendship on behalf of us, now and forever. I needed not – there was nothing else to say to those who gave us a world, a hope, a future. Instead, I watched these dark men who speak in tongues unheard and carry the light of the stars - and are now a part of us   
  



	7. Into The Old Forest

The way grows darker and dimmer. The trees drip damply on us and I shiver. Frodo asks, 

"Are you cold?"

I shake my head fiercely -_ no!_

I am - cold, damp and scared of these trees that breath malice - but no colder than he. I am _not_ here to be looked after - to be the baby.  
  
"Scared?"

I force a smile. "Of this overgrown firewood?"

It has taken every threat and promise I could command to convince Merry that I should come. Always I have trailed him, trying to catch up and I _will_ be as old as them, I swear  



	8. Tidings of Death

It was just after the fifth hour that you suddenly stopped and turned pale. The goblet in your hand slithered to the floor in a pool of spilling red. 

"Faramir?" I asked

You scarcely breathed but in a thread of voice said, "Boromir I hear his horn. He is calling, Father."

I stepped to where you stared unseeingly out a window and watched you anxiously.

Suddenly your head went down.

"It blows no more, Father." You turned and looked at me, eyes blind. "He is gone."

Tremors shook you and I reached for you and held you my only son.  



	9. The Mortal Road

I watched you sleep in Lorien, - a fevered, restless sleep; hand clasping and unclasping sword-hilt, lips muttering broken, unheard words. I watched as you lay awake, darkness in your eyes. You carry your own peril into Lorien, but I sorrowed for your danger. You are of my own kind - _Mortal_, weak and yet powerful. We are to whom the Ring sings its silent song. 

_Power. Knowledge. Strength._

I hear it too - its dark promises and shadowed call. I know its power. I guard myself, gird myself and fight my frailty - yet cannot save you. 

I watch you fall.  



	10. I Hear the Stones Lament

_I hear the stones lament them:  
deep they delved us; fair they wrought us; high they builded us; but they are gone. _

My eyes see the holly's thickly-clustered berries but my mind sees a tall city, streets thronged with hosts of fair Elven-folk. As I watch, I see it fall in flames and war and hear the clash of steel and a hundred voices crying out in loss,

_They are gone._

In the cold, thin winter sun, I shiver in pity and dread. Soon may travellers in all Middle-earth hear only this lament of trees and stones.  
  
_They are gone_  



	11. The Prince of Golden Flowers

  
It was here he fell - he of the golden hair and golden heart. He fell in flames and darkness against a being of ancient evil, fell to save those of us that fled. The eagles brought us back his body – burnt and bloody and broken. We laid it on the turf here and raised a mound over it. He was a prince of the house of the golden flowers – and the golden flowers came to be his shroud.   
  
Here, here is one of his flowers. Tuck it into your hair, child, and remember the one who died for you. 


	12. Peering in the Dark Water

  
Through darkness and mire I drive him; through forest and briar he drives me. He is my prisoner - or I am his. I can not remember. Can not remember warmth, sufficient food, ease. Can not remember when I did not hold him, drive him, drag him. Always in my ears are his moans and snufflings. Always in my nose is his smell – reeking of dark things and dark places. Always in my eyes are his eyes: they watch me and hunger for my throat.   
  
In the dark hours I watch what the ring has made him and I fear. 


	13. The Task of my Kindred

The road is long and dark and the wind blows cold. He wraps his ragged cloak around him as he trudges past candle-lit windows and smoke-drifting chimneys. Now and then, a dog barks uneasily at his presence or a horse whickers restlessly. In fitful patches of moonlight, he catches glimpses of a sturdily built henhouse or a neat vegetable garden and remembers another scattering of small cottages, far up in the north - a place of his kin where he is welcomed at gate and door. With grim smile he rests his hand on a broken sword and strides on.   



	14. Responsibilities

Okay - I'm cheating. This is actually a double-drabble but I didn't think it was strong enough to stand on its own.

"More toast?" calls Pip from his place by the fire.

"No, Pip, I am fine," I reply and smile as I watch him spread a thick layer of butter onto his eighth piece.

It is rare indeed that I will turn down food - but for now I am content to watch him eat. For the first time in what seems like forever we are safe. We have a roof of sorts over our head, a fire to keep warm by and enough food to fill our bellies. Treebeard's Ents are on guard and our swords lie unneeded on the table.

Pippin comes over and flops into the chair beside me as he swallows a last doubled-over mouthful of toast. I look at him - hair all tangled, clothes tattered and torn, black, sooty streaks across his face and hands greasy with butter and bacon fat – and blink back tears. He is warm and fed and happy, this precious small cousin of mine, after all the nights I dreamt of losing him and all the days I watched him be brave through hunger and hurt. I want to hug him but instead I say,

"You do look a fright, Pip."


	15. Children of Aule

Strong you will be, strong and unyielding: strong in friendship and in muscles. Strong you will_ need _to be: strong enough to work alongside me with metal, fire and stone: strong enough to face the power of Melkor. Loyal I will make you too, and hardy, for you are my children and I would have you live long lives and love truly. You will toil without tiring, just as I do: and I will teach you all my skills and crafts. Together we will make this land more beauteous than ever was – but first I must create you, my children. 


	16. All that is Lost

Sometimes in the darkness I call him Aragorn. When all are asleep, I stroke his hair and whisper it so softly it does not even stir his dreams. Watching him in the thin light of his bedside candle I mourn for all that has been lost. We have taken his father's name from him, let memories fade beyond childish recall, and taken from him his home and kin. Yet still do I see my husband in every soft line of his face and in the proud courage of his heart. I brush his cheek and whisper, 

"_Aragorn son of Arathorn._"


	17. Mithril and Oak

He looks as delicate as the faint traceries of mithril that shine in walls far underground, yet, like that metal, his strength is beyond testing. He shines with that same unearthly beauty too – fairer than anything else on earth. Mithril fair and mithril strong is my friend the Elf. 

He has all the solid strength of an oak: deep-rooted, immovable and long-growing. Unyielding he can seem, yet, like the oak, a living warmth beats through him. I find a beauty in him - as in a gnarled and rough-barked oak. Oak hardy and oak strong is my friend the Dwarf


	18. A Question of Greed

AN: Written for a challenge on the seven deadly sins

"How many, Frodo?" asked Bilbo.

His nephew coloured guiltily and looked down at the almost empty plate. Only three jamdrops remained in rather crumbly glory on it: clearly this afternoon's tea party would be celebrated without any of Daisy Proudfoot's renowned biscuits.

"Nine, I think."

Bilbo snorted. As heedless a 'tween as his nephew was, he didn't expect downright lying from him.

"I ordered two dozen – and don't tell me a dragon ate them!"

A small fat Hobbit edged out from behind the cider barrel and raised a jam-smeared face to look at Bilbo.

"Please, Mr Bilbo – I et twelve."


	19. A Schoolboy Snail

_In the days of Belecthor I (2655) tariffs rose steeply…_

Boromir crossly pushed away the book he had been set to con. Who cared what had happened so many years ago? From across the table, Faramir's slate taunted him. Hehad been rewarded with sweetmeats and sent early to play, whilst Berenthir had lectured Boromir and set him fusty pages of dates to learn. Lazy and an idler, Berenthir had called him. Remembering, Boromir scowled and dug his boots into the matting. Just let him look to his head come the days of Boromir II!

_…trade treaties were negotiated with…_


	20. A Ride of Hope

He balances easily on the horse, lets the reins fall loose and feels his clothes and hair whipped back by the wind. He is free. Ahead of him stretches blue skies and endless plains of whispering grass and, as the sun beats down on him, he is happy. He rides away from the dark tendrils that curl about sleep and make his days an endless test of mettle. He rides on a dreamer's quest when all his hard-won soldier's logic tells him that the time for dreams is past… and yet dreams he still. Behind lies darkness: ahead lies hope.


End file.
